Fortunate Silence
by Rach3
Summary: Weiss and Sydney bond over video games, imported beer and the Barbi twins. EV Challenge futurefic.


**Fortunate Silence **  
by Rach  
PG-13 (for mild swearing)  
Summary: Five, five, one challenge for Eloquent Vernacular. Weiss/Sydney futurefic.  
Spoilers: None, I think.  
Archive: EV and CM  
Feedback: Sure. aliasrlm@yahoo.com  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. And "The Uppity Puppy" is actually a store down the street from me.   
AN: Thanks to Rhien for the beta. My first time attempting writing Weiss - a lot more difficult than I expected.

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**[barriers]**

She was really starting to piss me off. 

I mean, I tried to keep some compassion reserved for her unique situation. Sure, we've all been in love. She's not alone in that aspect. Hell, if it comes down to the world record for consecutive break-ups, I think I might have little competition. But, the shit she's been through - the shit she and Vaughn went through together - it had to be remembered and entered into the equation. She wasn't a jilted girlfriend, a crazed stalker who called at three in the morning only to remind you in a sing-song voice that you were on her mind (and reinforce a decision made in the mid-80s to never get a pet rabbit). 

I had to try to remember that the man she loved was ripped away from her, that she was determined to find him. That she'd tear through the agency, through co-workerseven her own fatherto locate him. 

But for fuck's sake, I was on a _vacation_. First vacation in two years. You'd think that she'd at least to think about someone beside herself. But what am I saying? She's Sydney Bristow - she doesn't give two shits about anyone else.

So I tried be relatively kind at first when I noticed a dull green sedan tailing me through the streets of L.A. - I tried to lose her at first by turning unexpectedly, taking back roads, alternating from driving like a silver-haired Golden Girl to taking corners like Mario Andretti. But she didn't let me out of her sight. No, she kept that Taurus no less than 100 feet away, her determined expression and clenched jaw occasionally visible in my rearview mirror. 

And then, fuming, I hit my breaking point. I yanked the wheel of my SUV to the right, hard and fast, knowing she'd follow. I slammed on my brakes, the squeal echoing off the freeway's cement barrier walls. 

But I didn't wait for her to make the first move. No, I was too pissed off for that. My first vacation in two years and what was I doing? Pulled over on the side of the busy freeway for a confrontation with my best friend's obsessive girlfriend. 

I threw open the door and stomped out, my sandal-clad feet smacking against the pavement angrily.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped, not even giving her the chance to open her door. "What kind of drugs are you on?"

I stopped when I saw the tears streaming down her face, mascara smudged over her prominent cheekbones. "Jesus, Sydney" My hands rested on the door handle, idle, not knowing what to do. "What are you doing to yourself?"

"WeissI just need to know." She pleaded, desperation permeating from her like stink from a men's locker room. Her eyebrows arched dramatically, her chapped lips shivering. "Please"

Leaning down, I pulled off my sunglasses. Her long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and she closed her eyes tiredly. "I _need_ to know where he is."

"And for the thousandth time, I don't know." My voice lost its edge of irritation as I continued to take in the sight of her - disheveled, dark circles under her eyes, sallow skin - and I sighed, placing my hand over hers and squeezing slightly. "You think they'd trust me with that kind of information? C'mon, Syd, you know as much as I do."

"Somebody has to know where he is." Her eyes opened, the tiniest glint of hope detectable deep within. "Somebody _has_ to know."

I didn't want to be the one to extinguish the last flicker of hope. I didn't want to be that guy. It should've been Kendall. Or Jack. Or hell, even Dixon.

Not me. 

And not in the middle of mid-day traffic, horns blasting as cars zoomed by, threatening to knock me on my ass, to turn me into California road kill.

"I'm sorry. I really am" I paused, crouching down to look her in the eye, trying not to squint in the bright sunlight. It's the least she deserved. "But no one knows. No one. Not me. Not your father. Not even Kendall."

Her eyelids fluttered helplessly for a second, reminding me of a three-year-old being thrown into the deep end of a pool with nothing to cling to but two rings of cheap inflatable plastic. 

"It's been three months nowand I know I'm not a shrink - _thank God_ - but I think it might be time for you to let this go."

I was prepared for a fight, for a weak rebuttal at the very least. I hastily readied myself to use words like 'denial,' 'closure,' and 'healing' - scrounged up from the Psych 101 class I'd managed to skip so often back in college in favor of beer bongs and video games.

But all she did was bite her lip and nod, a single tear trickling down the side of her face.

"I know." She tilted her head, sighing as the sunlight bathed her face in a golden shimmer. 

Her hand turned and tugged at mine. "HeyI'm sorryfor all of this."

I smiled, foolishly believing my attempt at forced cheerfulness would rub off on her. "So am I."

**  
[uppity puppy]**

  
Two weeks later, she stopped by to visit.

Donovan, that is. 

It just goes to show you how low I'd fallen on the totem pole, really, that Mike's abandoned dog was scoring more female visitors than yours truly.

Digging into a brown paper bag, she pulled out a cellophane-wrapped treat, the ends of the package tied with curled blue ribbons.

"Just for you, sweetie," she cooed to the dog, who, in turn, drooled on my carpeting.

"Really, you shouldn't have," I commented dryly, flipping channels until I reached ESPN. "And since when are dog bones individually wrapped? Seriously, that's about five miles past ridiculous."

"Jealous much?" She turned to me and laughed, her hair swaying gently against her shoulders. 

"Pssshhhh, like I'd be jealous of a drooling canine."

But I so was.

  
**[409 and 007]**

  
Four days later, she invited us over, promising Donovan two treats. 

And a case of Heineken for me.

Her smile had grown wider, less forced. 

I tried not to let on how my ego was bruised when she managed to out-drink me. Fortunately, she bought bottles - I have a good feeling that if we had any beer cans, I would've tried to earn back my man card by crushing the aluminum with my forehead.

I managed to win back a few points by kicking her ass on Playstation 2. Who would've known that Sydney Bristow, spy extraordinaire, would suck as a virtual James Bond?

But, man, she did. I would've actually been embarrassed for her if she weren't so damn cocky, promising an 'ass-kicking to end all ass-kickings'. When she failed to score a single goal in soccer, I gave her the benefit of the doubt, thinking perhaps she just wasn't very good at the sport-related games. Thought that she'd do better with my man Bond. But she could hardly make the computer-generated Bond walk in a straight line, much less do anything remotely spy-worthy.  
  
"Dude, you're giving me a headache." I cringed openly at the way the screen spun in circles. "Seriously, I can't believe you've been in the same spot for the past five minutes." I took an impressive swig from the beer bottle. I swallowed and exhaled loudly, the corner of my mouth turning upward. "I hate to throw stones, Sydney, but you suck."

She giggled, her hands clenched tightly around the game controller. "I'm _trying_. I think there's something wrong with this thing," she paused, smacking her thigh with the plastic controller. "It's a piece of crap."

"Whoaaaa, hey now," I started, arching an eyebrow in her direction. "First rule of Playstation 2 in the house of Weissis not to blame the equipment for your own incompetence in video game playing."

"First of all, Eric, we're not in the 'house of Weiss'as I'm sure you can tell by the lack of porn magazines and ultra-classy Barbi twin decor," she bit her lip, concentrating on the screen. "Secondly, I've been told by a number of people that I'm actually quite adept at video games." She tried to hide a smile as her James Bond ran straight into a wall. 

"Riiiight," I replied, flashing her a grin of my own. James Bond turned and turned and turned, walking in a tight circle, his gun a gray blur on the screen. "Just out of curiosity, Sydhow many of these people were, I don't know, legally blind?"

She chuckled, tossing the controller to me. "Fine," she snapped playfully, "it's all yours."

"Thank _you_. It's about time for James Bond to be in more capable hands," I commented, my fingers tapping the buttons. "And I'll have you know that I don't have any Barbi twin décor at my place, thank you very much. Carmen Elektra is much more my type."

James Bond was no longer pussy-footing around the screen, but rather stalking and killing ruthlessly, as he very well should be. "As you can see, playing a video game is a fine art - just as precise as all of that martial art mumbo-jumbo that you're supposedly an expert at -"

Her black-socked foot kicked the controller out of my hand with a smooth, quick swipe. Bond grunted from the TV, finally put out of his misery by a masked enemy.

Hand on hip, she cocked her head. "Supposedly." She cracked a smile, moving to her fridge. "You want another beer or what?"

And I was eternally thankful that we hung out at her place instead of mine. My apartment was disturbingly messy -- I couldn't help but be reminded of that fact as I secretly admired the little rose-shaped soaps in her sparkling clean bathroom.

I made a mental note to make porcelain-scrubbing a new habit. 

  
**[comfort]**

  
She cried on my shoulder at work. 

I held her tightly, gladly giving her all of the comfort and stability I could offer. 

"I don't know what's come over me, EricI'm just so -" she stammered before a sob shook her body violently.

I stroked her hair and let her cry into my suit. "Shhhh, you don't have to say anything, OK? I knowI know."

Two minutes later, eyes red and cheeks blotchy, she attempted to smile. "Thanks." She started to walk away, back toward her work area, but stopped to face me once more. "I hate feeling this out of control" she wrung her hands and continued, "like there's this dam that I've builtand once it gives way, I'm useless to stop all of thisall of these emotions."

"Sydney, it's perfectly normal," I assured her, stuffing my hands in my pockets, knowing if free, they'd undoubtedly reach for her. "I'm here for you, whenever you need me. OK?"

She just nodded, ran a hand down my sleeve, and walked away.

**[and then?]**

  
I paid for Chinese a few weeks later, when we were too wired from a productive 12-hour workday to head back to our respective apartments.

Although it was never spoken aloud, we both suffered from loneliness. I, from losing my best friend. She, from losing the man she loved. Together, we fell into a pattern of companionable silences, quick-witted banter and quiet reflection. Much like Donovan, who still waited patiently by the front door every night, we missed Mike.

We sat in the restaurant, a favorite of his, and ate silently. Sydney's eyes watered when the waiter asked if Michael would be joining us. I averted my gaze, not knowing what to do with the solid lump I felt form in my throat. She just shook her head, waved the waiter away with stiff fingers and squeezed my knee, letting me know I wasn't alone in my sadness.

We devoured Kung Po and cashew chicken before finally cracking open our fortune cookies.

"_What eludes you will be found soon_," I read through a mouthful of stale cookie. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head in mock wonder. "Wow, could that be any more vague?" I snorted, flicking the paper across the table with my index finger. "What a crock."

She offered a half-smile, pulling out her strip of paper. "_Don't ask, don't say. Everything lies in silence._" With lips pursed, she pondered the supposed words of wisdom. Turning to me, resting her chin in her hand, she asked quietly, "What should we make of that?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped myself. For some reason, it didn't sound _that_ inane. Instead it seemed like something I could almost believe in. Watching her grace me with a genuine, full-dimpled smile, I just shrugged and grinned without saying a word.


End file.
